This second volume of works by Russell Lichter (whom I dubbed The
Hermit of Blackpoint in the first volume) is entitled Greenpoint.
Like Blackpoint, Greenpoint is the name of an actual geographical
location in northern California. Highway 37 on its way from Novato
to Vallejo bisects an oak forested area of several square miles,
bordered to the east by the mouth of the Petaluma River and
Richardson Bay, and to the west by miles of wetlands and cow
pastures. Greenpoint is on the northern side of that highway,
Blackpoint on the southern. Despite their contiguity they have
different genii loci and different topologies. Most Blackpointers
could not afford to live in Greenpoint and most Greenpointers
wouldn't want to live in Blackpoint. And yet, the two form one
whole. The geographical message here is that the works of the first
volume form an emotional and spiritual continuum with the works of
this volume. They come from, so to speak, the same place, both
physically and metaphysically. While some may object to this, there
is a lot to be said for remaining true to one's roots in a world
that is becoming increasingly rootless, and where isolation and
insecure disconnectedness abound, even at the highest economic and
social levels. While the Asian philosophies that highly influence
both the author and the publisher talk in terms of ?having no
abode, ? and ?non-attachment to all phenomena, ? it is the
publisher's view that a little Western thought is needed to balance
this out, and the author, knowingly or unknowingly, has done so.
While it is true that we do well not to be overly-clingy, it is the
view of the great systematic German philosophers that place is not
merely incidental, but of great spiritual significance. This is to
say that the balanced man is willing to let go of place when the
time comes that he must do so; but at the same time, we should
remember that we really do come from somewhere, and we have roots
in places; and to abandon any of those roots too carelessly is to
tread on dangerous ground, socially and psychologically. And so the
author of this second volume did well to sing his songs from his
homeland in his first book, and then to, in a Bach-like way,
re-present the first melodies with continual and minute variations
on the themes which stir his soul. The tapestry presented is at
once sweetly-nostalgic, sharply-observant and aching with earnest
melancholy. The author also does a great service by veering from
all orthodoxies in his refusal to simply wave away any serious
emotion or profound concern. He does not, in these works, accept
any philosophical, theological or psychological dictum which would
have us shrug-off as negligible such themes as the persistent
problems of aging, the vast array of missed opportunities, and past
experiences which cannot be recovered. No experience of the heart
is sent away with platitudes to feed on. Much like Victor Hugo, The
Hermit of Blackpoint cannot be sold a false bill of goods. If
something significant happens, he will not lie about it. If he
misses a person, place or thing, he pulls no punches in confessing
that. The past is not simply negated, belittled or ?transcended, ?
but is seized upon if its reality is a powerful one; and if
something about it hurts, he lets us know that it does, without any
rationalized apology. This business of living is tough and
uncertain, and Greenpoint, like its earlier brother Blackpoint,
reflect this. And in doing so, both texts alternate between hope
and despair; and that very ability to report the facts on the
ground as they change, instead of trying to report old news which
is no longer true, is not only the hallmark of good journalism, but
of good poetry too.
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